clover-cutting

Updated: April 30, 2025

I swept the mass of tangled green stems into the open space just outside the gate. Three or four more strokes and Dick stopped whistling suddenly, spat on his hands and with a lively "Here she goes!" came swinging in behind me. The clover-cutting had begun. At first I thought the heat would be utterly unendurable, and, then, with dripping face and wet shoulders, I forgot all about it.

David Grayson - Adventures in Friendship